


Then Why Are You Here?

by MilkyMickeyWay



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 7x10, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Clothes, EMT Ian Gallagher, Happy Birthday Mickey!, In Character Behavior, M/M, OOC Clothing, Phones, Season/Series 07, timeline jumps around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25823380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkyMickeyWay/pseuds/MilkyMickeyWay
Summary: Ian didn’t expect that he’d leave. He just needed time to think, time to heal, so he pushed away the man he loves.But now Mickey was gone, he had done the unthinkable for a Milkovich and left their streets.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 19
Kudos: 97





	Then Why Are You Here?

**Author's Note:**

> My weirdest flaw is that if I’m interested in something, all I want to do is read about it. Not even just fics or normal stuff. I always go to the Wiki page. Which, is how I realized this summary 
> 
> “Nevertheless, he meets Mickey again after and Ian later tells him his life is in a good condition now, he even has a boyfriend. Mickey asks, "Then why are you here?" and Ian has sex with him. This makes Ian make up his mind and he decides to go with Mickey.”
> 
> is all it said about Mickey’s return. It got me thinking; That line and the outfit Mickey is show in from the waist up once lead me to believe that Mickey was just rolling into town and visiting instead of breaking out of the slammer and shaking things up. So I wrote this for no reason other than a once upon a time slight misunderstanding.
> 
> Thank you @pathoftheranger for being a super last minute beta and making sure it was decent enough to post :) 
> 
> Anyway, It’s been sitting around a while just collecting dust so so I figured I’d post it for Mickey’s birthday this year. Happy 26th! 

Trevor wasn’t the one. Ian knew that, just like he knew Caleb wasn’t either. He was lonely though, always going to be.

He had met the one. Had even had a chance with him, and not just a chance. Mickey and him had been building a life together. They had fought against so much stacked against them before making it out, alive and together. Then Ian had thrown that out the window.

_“You used to love me. Now you don’t even know who I am,” he mumbled, standing up. He felt so drained already, even though he’d only been awake for an hour or two._

_Mickey wore his heartbreak right on his face. His eyes were filled with tears that threatened to leak down his cheeks. Any other time Ian would have wrapped his arms around him, unable to handle the sight of Mickey’s heart breaking._

He hardly remembered what all happened next. There was a blurry memory of Sammi appearing before chasing Mickey with a gun. Fiona was suddenly there with him in the backyard, wrapping her arms around him before leading him inside. He had curled up on the couch before drifting to sleep again.

After that, Ian had spent a handful of months resisting being medicated. He lied about taking them, flushed them, and just flat out ignored his siblings’ pleas. After an intense night where Debbie broke down, crying about Ian, Franny, and how shitty her life was, Ian finally decided to get his shit together. At least for his family.

The next few months weren’t much better. He dragged his feet doing even the most mundane of tasks. He showed up to work, barely did his job even though he felt like he was trying so hard, and occasionally even got fired. His legs felt like he had cinder blocks attached to them, as well as weight on his shoulders. Slowly but surely, the weights cleared and his brain wasn’t shrouded in fog. He felt like he was becoming his old self, the self he was in high school.

After one restless night of both dreams about Mickey in his arms and nightmares of the same man with pain all across his face, Ian decided to try and reach out. He had slowly come to realize how much his thoughts had been skewed during his pre-medicated days and that the breakup hardly made sense even to him. So, he popped his phone open to text Mickey one day after Caleb left for work or something. He wasn’t sure, but Caleb had appeared almost shifty about his plans. Ian didn’t really care if he was being honest; Caleb was more a safe relationship instead of a happy choice. The notification that his text wasn’t sent made as much sense as the breakup, though, and he groaned before walking downstairs to the kitchen to ask Lip.

Lip stood next to the stove, reaching out to grab the coffee pot. He looked up at Ian, meeting his eyes with his own tired, bloodshot ones. It was pretty obvious he had been on a binger the night before.

Ian stared at him with pity. “Rough night?”

Lip groaned, darting his eyes to avoid Ian’s. “That’s, uh, a bit of an understatement.”

He finished pouring his coffee before taking a drink and wincing. Ian was torn between asking him if it was spiked or leaving it alone. He’d caught him drinking more often than not lately. He didn’t exactly want to poke the bear that was Lip, so he left it for now. Fiona had been on his case relentlessly anyway, so Ian decided he’d send her a text about it later. Speaking of texts…

“Hey, if I sent a text and it gave me a notification that it didn’t go through, what would cause that?”

Lip took another sip, appearing as if he was in thought. “Hmm, well it could mean a couple of things. You pay your phone bill?”

Ian had. He hadn’t missed a payment since he finally got fed up with the shared Gallagher cell phone and got himself his own personal one. Mickey was newly out then and could freely text him but refused to if the rest of the family had a chance of seeing it. Fed up with the lack of contact, Ian had gratefully accepted this phone after Mickey had snagged it for him from the purse of a woman who glared at him when he entered the L alongside Ian, and he’d gotten a cheap plan put on it. He decided to test Lip’s theory by shooting a text to Fiona about him just in case, watching it get delivered. There. Two birds, one stone.

“Yeah, a text to Fi just went through. What else?”

Lip slowly sank into a chair at the kitchen table, groaning and gripping his forehead as he did. “I don’t know, Ian. Maybe you didn’t have a good signal or something.”

Ian threw himself in the opposite chair, groaning at Lip’s response. That clearly wasn’t the answer. He had been in his damn bedroom, for Christ’s sake. “Can’t be. I was in the bedroom. Never had a problem before.”

From under his hands, he heard Lip mumble, “Guess you've pissed off whoever it was enough that they blocked your number then.”

He was struck, suddenly unable to move. Of course, it was obvious now, but maybe he just hadn’t wanted to believe that. That after all they’d been through Mickey would want to completely cut off contact. No. Wasn’t that what he deserved though, he thought. Mickey had skipped town after the breakup. Ian hadn’t even realized it until he was sitting next to Debbie after she had run some of Liam’s old clothes to Svetlana and commented on how she heard Mickey was doing.

_“Yev is getting so big! He looked so happy having two playmates all the time. It’s kind of adorable to watch. I wish Franny had friends or cousins to bond with. Oh, Svetlana and V also said they’d save what Amy and Gemma grew out of that would work for Franny. Mickey is going to send them money for baby stuff once he gets paid. Kind of crazy how he lives in Michigan now, huh?”_

_Debbie’s verbose speech had been grinding Ian’s gears already, but the moment he heard Mickey’s name, he snapped, “Debs, I don’t want to hear it!”_

_Then he had looked at her shocked face until he recalled what she had actually just said. “Wait. What did you say about Mickey? He’s gone?”_

_The blood had drained from her face while he watched her realize that she was clearly going to be the one to break the news. “Uh, umm. Yeah Ian, he got a job up there. I didn’t know that nobody told you, I swear.”_

An awkward silence had hung between the pair. Ian was unsure how to even process that. Milkoviches didn't just leave the South Side, unless they ended up in prison. Debbie had looked wildly uncomfortable before she mumbled an excuse that Franny looked hungry and rushed to the kitchen after scooping her up. Ian was frozen still, unable to handle this newly acquired information. He always assumed that when he got stable the two of them would be able to pick back up from where they left off, but that dream crumbled at Debbie’s words. Mickey wouldn’t have just left if he thought anything was fixable. If he thought they weren’t over for good.

Ian had handled the news as well as he handled anything else that had ever bothered him. He pushed it to the side and hyper-focused on other aspects. He dated around, trying desperately to force real relationship feelings with men who, on paper, should have been it. Caleb was his first steady boyfriend after Mickey. He seemed too good to be true: a firefighter with a knack for art that pushed Ian to better himself, even helped him land a job as an EMT. He was seemingly perfect, except the whole pretentious-asshole-who-openly-judged-Ian-for-being-raised-South-Side bit. If that wasn’t already enough, he cheated on Ian for a girl and then tried to blame him. Relationship over.

———

Trevor came next. Trevor somehow managed to be even better on paper than Caleb. He poured his blood, sweat, and tears into the youth shelter that he helped run. In his early twenties, too. Ian admired the hell out of that, knowing his family was often seconds away from growing up in one. Permanently. They had managed to spend a few short instances in one after a particularly big fuck-up by Frank. Despite all the admiration Ian had for his current boyfriend, Trevor still managed to lack the same care in his personal relationships that shined through his work. He didn’t take Ian’s problems seriously, even if one of the youths living at his shelter would approach him with the same problem. Ian knew Trevor didn’t grow up South Side though, so he couldn’t exactly put himself into Ian’s situation when it came to shitty parents. He was passionate about his work, but the passion was built off the LGBT side of his life and not the bad upbringing he was fortunate to have avoided.

Still, Ian was determined to make it work in spite of the lack of common ground, so he put all the extra care into their relationship that Trevor overlooked. He would swing by with lunches he packed himself in little brown bags and drop them at his desk with a wide smile plastered on. Trevor would look up from his paperwork and mutter a thanks, but Ian could tell he was too absorbed in his work to really appreciate it.

He couldn’t complain, though. He knew going in that Trevor’s work was his greatest joy. That didn’t mean the lack of attention didn’t hurt, or that it didn’t make his mind wander back to the ex that ripped out half his heart when he left.

But still, Ian made it work. He invited Trevor around his family to see if they’d click, and they didn’t exactly not click. Lip accidentally dropped a chick comment right to his face, and Debbie was on a mission when she met him but immediately decided she had enough time to explain that she knew a girl name Molly who was transgender before asking if Trevor knew her too. The rest were equally embarrassing, but for some reason Trevor was still cool with spending the night anyway after basically being insulted by the whole clan.

When they finally climbed into Ian’s bed after he tugged on the broken sliding door, Trevor fell asleep immediately curled up on his side. Ian couldn’t, though: it had never felt right sharing the bed with another man that wasn’t Mickey. It felt dirty, like he was hiding Mickey away, even though he wasn’t his anymore. Ian figured it might take his whole life to get over what he did to him.

Morning came, and Ian tossed his arm up to shield his eyes from the sun as Trevor attempted to silently leave the bed.

“That time already?”

He peeked through his fingers to watch his boyfriend slide on his shoes. “It’s orientation week for a new group of teens at the youth center.”

Ian sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed while Trevor continued getting ready. He had half his foot perched on the edge of the bed while he looped the laces of his sneaker. Ian leaned his head on Trevor’s shoulder as the night’s lack of sleep caught up to him. Trevor finished as he noticed the action. “Hey, you still tired?”

Ian groaned. “Feels like I was in a bar fight.”

Trevor reached around to pat Ian’s back. “You were pretty restless last night.”

Guilt flooded into Ian’s gut. Did he really want to be sitting here being comforted by a guy he was pretty sure he used as a distraction?

Trevor jumped up from the bed at that moment, saving Ian from his own thoughts, while checking the time on his phone. “Shit, I gotta go. Going to be late if I don’t leave now.” Leaning down, he gave Ian a quick peck on the head before struggling to push open the door and adding, “See ya later tonight.”

Ian sat on the edge of the mattress, unsure how to process his emotions. Lack of sleep had his mind pulling him in all kinds of different directions. He was ashamed at how many told him this wasn’t it.

He slowly rose out of the bed, practically zombie walking to the bathroom. A nice hot shower would do him wonders since he was due to leave for work within the hour and couldn’t exactly act this distracted as an EMT. One bad day could really fuck up the job, and he had to be on his toes at all times.

He reached past the dish soap that Lip used regularly for some reason, defending it with a weak argument of, “Well, if it can clean a penguin, then it can clean me,” before he grabbed his White Rain for men three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Lip argued that something from the Dollar Store that could do all three couldn’t be a step up from dish soap, but Ian reasoned that it was at least meant for human hair and not dishes or oily penguins.

He scrubbed his hair until it was a bubbly mess that he distractingly spiked up into a mohawk while trying to wake up. The water hitting his back felt amazing, and soon the sinking feeling in his gut disappeared just like he willed it to most days. He lathered up his whole body before letting the water continue to pour over him until the temperature slowly crept towards the cool side.

When it did, he took that as a sign he should probably stop wasting time. He hopped out and grabbed the towel he’d thrown on the floor when he walked in. Once it was secure around his waist, extra secure since Carl had a habit of just ripping the towel off anyone walking by for his amusement growing up, he headed towards his room to throw on his EMT uniform.

After getting dressed and killing the rest of his spare time by playing Clash of Clans on his phone, he headed out the front door and quickly skipped down the steps as he’d done every day since his family moved in.

Leaves were slowly starting to fall as the crispy wind hit them. The weather was just right, a warm day with a light, cool breeze. Ian’s worry had basically melted off of him between the warm shower and the beauty of nature. He took a deep breath in, wanting to enjoy this moment of clarity before something ruined in.

Unsurprisingly, his phone buzzed in his back pocket, halting his thoughts. He should have known just thinking that would cause an interruption. He dug out the phone, seeing a number he didn’t recognize.

_2:13 Unknown Number: Miss me?_

_2:14 Ian Gallagher: Hard to miss who I don’t know. Who is this?_

_2:14 Unknown Number: I’ll give u a guess._

That text ended there. No hints came through in written form. Ian stopped on the sidewalk, puzzled and staring down at his phone as a man walked by while giving him a dirty look for being in the way. Ian kept starting to type before deleting it, watching the thought bubble appear and disappear, when he received a notification that a picture message came through. He clicked on it, watching the message download. At 2:18, the photo finished before revealing a set of knuckles that read ‘FUCK U-UP’.

Ian fumbled with his phone out of shock before letting go of the light grip he had on it. It whooshed down onto the sidewalk, landing with the back side facing up. He didn’t even want to pick it up, worried that the phone that Mickey had given him would be completely broken.

Mustering up the courage, Ian bent over to carefully pick it up before closing his eyes as he flipped it around. He slowly cracked open his eyelids before noticing a slight crack on the left corner. He breathed out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. It still worked. A little crack was fine, he told himself. The fact that it was a gift wasn’t eating away at him right now or anything.

He pulled out his cigarettes as he walked towards the L, lighting one up and holding it in his mouth as he finally typed back.

_2:26 Ian Gallagher: Mickey?_

_2:27 Mickey Milkovich: Just letting u know I moved back to the south side._

———-

Ian just barely made it to the station before he unexpectedly ended up with his head in the toilet. He wished he could say he faked it to get out of work, but the sum total of how much today basically punched him in the balls had gotten to him. After he tore through the building to gag over a toilet, he was dismissed for the rest of the day. Sue made him swear to lay down and get some sleep, pointing out the dark circles under his eyes from the restless night.

Instead, he was currently leaning against a tree as the bright sunlight shined above, waiting near a baseball field full of memories. Whatever self control he had at any point today disappeared at the thought of Mickey being anywhere near him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a shorter man in a flowy see-through-like shirt. He leaned back with a cigarette resting in his mouth as he drew in a lungful of smoke while closing his eyes. When he opened them, the man from before was walking straight at him, but this time Ian could make out the features that belonged to Mickey.

His jaw actually fell open like a scene from a movie. He was pretty sure his eyes might also have popped out all cartoon-like from shock. Mickey Milkovich was walking towards him in a pair of dark denim skin-tight jeans, fancy black shoes with a slight heel, that semi-translucent shirt with flowers that buttoned up in back, actual piercings in his ears, and from the looks of his face, he might have even been wearing makeup.

He walked up to Ian and folded his arms, a mannerism that still managed to say ‘don’t fuck with me’ despite the bold new clothing he wore so casually. “Well? You just going to stand there?”

“Mickey?”

The transformation didn’t change his features as he grimaced, his head turned to the side as if he couldn’t even look at Ian. “Yeah? You got something to say then fucking say it.”

Ian’s mind was boggled. Mickey’s mannerisms and speech conflicted with the feminine-outfitted man in front of him. He always took care of his hair since they’d seriously begun fooling around, but this was even more so. His sides were shaved down in the same way Ian remembered loving from before, but the longer part in front slightly curled. Not naturally. Ian could tell Mickey had products in it and willingly put in that effort. He longed to reach up and run his hand through it, to mess it up in the way that it naturally looked after a night of messing around. His lips looked extra pouty and a deeper color than the soft lips Ian had kissed a thousand times before.

“Mick, you look so… so different.”

Mickey grunted. “Yeah? That’s all you got to say, Gallagher? Don’t like my new faggoty way of dressing?”

Ian huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “What? God, no. You look great. I mean, I didn’t expect this,” Ian waved his hands from Mickey’s head to his feet, “but you look good.”

He saw a blush form across Mickey’s face before his eyes darted to the side, avoiding looking at Ian. A silence fell between them, not an uncomfortable one but instead the type of quiet that only works with a person you’re close to.

Mickey jumped onto the table part of a bench, sitting on it and perching his feet up on the actual seat. His elbows leaned against his knees, causing them to spread in a stereotypical ‘too cool to care’ kind of way. The posture and Mickey stood even more apart from the classy clothes he wore now.

Ian was still leaning against the tree, focusing all his energy on inhaling and exhaling cigarette smoke. He could barely look up at his ex, realizing that despite the obvious, his feelings for Mickey were not at all dulled by their time apart.

“Got another one?”

Mickey’s eyes were staring down into his very soul. Ian shakily reached into his pocket to pull out his pack. He flipped the lid up with one hand before pulling out his second to last cigarette. He’d stopped by the store after he heard from Mickey, bought a fresh pack, and had spent all the time since then sucking them down. His lungs felt on fire, and he knew tomorrow he’d sound rough.

Mickey made zero effort to move, so Ian pushed himself off the wall and walked towards Mickey. The sitting man didn’t bother to reach out either, causing Ian to place it against his lips out of habit. His fingers brushed his full bottom lip as their eyes met.

Mickey pulled his head back aggressively and broke contact. Ian fumbled with his lighter, unsure if he should just hand it over or light it himself, before awkwardly striking the sparkwheel and leaning forward with the flame. He held it near Mickey’s cigarette and cupped his hand to allow it to catch without the wind’s interference. He could feel Mickey’s eyes burrowing into him again.

“Went all official on me?”

Before Ian could speak, Mickey reached across the small gap and touched his collar so softly. He grazed the material before patting it back into place. Ian’s breath hitched, carefully watching. Mickey leaned back and removed the cigarette from the corner of his lips, breathing out.

“So what about you? What’s with the getup?”

He placed the cigarette back in the corner of his lips before speaking around it. “Trying to find myself or some shit. Same reason I moved to Michigan. Kinda feels nice to take fucking care of myself for once.”

Ian was hovering, unsure if he should sit next to Mickey or lean back against the tree. Or even just turn around and leave. He chose to slowly drag his feet back to the safety of the tree, where he was less likely to make any sudden decisions. “Thought you weren’t going to wear a dress or some shit.”

He watched a small grin crack and his eyes looked up almost shyly. “Fuck off, Nurse Joy. It’s not a fucking dress.”

He let out a laugh that shook him. “Can you fully admit that it came from the men’s department? Also, you paired it with earrings, Mick.”

That earned him a glare and a middle finger. “Was going to gauge them, but until then I gotta wear studs. Anyway, how’s life been on the South Side? Missed it. Even missed Yev. Didn’t realize how much I would miss everything until I was gone.”

Ian’s heart swelled, hoping that everything included him as well. “Kinda weird around here lately. Whole family is kinda branching apart, doing their own thing. Took me too long to fix my issues, and figured Yev already forgot about me, so I let him…” He trailed off, looking past Mickey to where the sun was now slowly setting when he asked, “Why did you block my number, Mick?”

That earned an eyebrow raise. “Yeah? Why’d you dump me for giving a shit about you?”

He might as well have actually punched him in the gut, because that’s exactly what it felt like. “It wasn’t like that. Didn’t need to tie you down to me when I was like that.”

Mickey wore an amused look on his face, except it twisted into a mix of cunning and hurt. “Oh yeah, you’re taking your meds and have your shit under control, right? Big EMT star now.”

Ian knew what was coming. It was so fucking easy to see it coming that he didn’t even let Mickey finish. “I have a fucking boyfriend, Mick.”

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look that surprised, but he raised his eyebrow and smirked wider, giving off the most cocky look he could muster. “Yeah, what’cha doing here then?”

Ian shoved his whole body away from the tree before grabbing Mickey and bringing their lips together. The kiss was hungry, a kiss that was meant to make up for the years of separation, years of hurt. Ian was pretty sure that Mickey’s hands grasping at whatever they could to hold onto was the only reason his legs hadn’t given out on him. Mickey’s mouth was bruising against Ian’s and their teeth clinked together before his tongue frantically made its way into Ian’s mouth.

His brain short circuited while his hands clenched around Mickey’s face to bring them closer. As close as possible. He couldn’t get enough. Their tongues battled against each other in the most aggressive and desperate make-out session he’d ever had.

Ian pulled back first, gasping for air. His heart thudded against his ribs while his brain caught up to him before he gasped out loud. Fuck. _Fuck_ , he had a fucking boyfriend. A fact he literally just admitted out loud before attacking Mickey’s face like a dementor.

The panic that flashed across his own face must have been visible enough to cause Mickey to push back, commenting, “Hey yo, Ian.” He snapped his fingers in front of his nose. “We don’t have to do this.”

He glanced over as Mickey sighed and ran his hand through the front of his perfectly coiffed strands of hair. His eyes scanned his whole body, taking in the new look that he wanted to rip Mickey out of so bad. Not on account of their taste, just the need to dirty up his South Side _ex_ -boyfriend.

He grabbed a fistful of his shirt before dragging him back in to place a softer, sweeter kiss against his lips and mumble against them, “I missed you so fucking much, Mick.”

“Then why didn’t you wait for me?”

He rested his forehead against Mickey’s while clinging to the material he was still holding. Holding onto for dear life because if he let go, he would lose him again. “You blocked me. You were gone. What was I supposed to do?”

Mickey breathed out harshly, trying to control his emotions. Ian let him settle, not pushing him. “Thought I could move on without your alien-looking ass. Then I realized every guy I fucked was either tall or a redhead.”

He chuckled without humor. Ian peered down at him through wide eyes, realizing that this was it for him. He’d always known, but he spent so much time trying to fix himself that he let it go. He leaned forward to connect their mouths, as softly as he could. It was more just the two of them touching, but Mickey’s slight gasp caused Ian to deepen the kiss.

He grabbed at Mickey’s shoulders, ripping at the shirt’s material in desperation. He heard the sound of buttons ripping and landing hazardously around them, freeing his hands to reach inside the unusual shirt. The material felt awful to touch, and Ian could hardly believe Mickey willingly wore it.

He pushed the shirt down, exposing Mickey’s shoulders before his hands crept inside. His hand grazed across the pale, milky white, pulling a shudder out of Mickey that lit a fire inside of Ian. He flipped the man around, pushing him roughly down against the wooden picnic table. His breath ghosted over Mickey’s ear before he grasped his jaw and angled his head and smashed their lips back together.

Mickey gasped before returning the kiss, his tongue pushing past Ian’s lips. They continued their heated reunion, tongues seeking each other, bodies touching at every possible point. Mickey’s hands scrambled, attempting to rip his belt out of his jeans, earning a groan out of Ian.

———

“Missed that, missed you.”

The two lay under the stars, clothes haplessly thrown on. Mickey’s fancy shirt was buttoned up wrong, leaving one side longer. Ian made it a point to run his fingers through his hair, dirtying it up. His makeup was smudged a bit, eyeliner rubbed across his cheek. They passed a joint back and forth, soaking in what was left of the night.

Ian held the joint away from his lips, just barely, whispering, “You don’t have to.”

Eyes darted to the side, taking him in as he decided his next words. He breathed out, staring at Ian before rolling over onto his side. “Yeah? And what about that boyfriend of yours?”

“I’ll dump him. Of course, I’ll dump him for you, Mick.” Ian slowly inched his hand over to Mickey’s arm, rubbing small circles into his skin. “We… We just don’t work, you know? Trev and I. He’s nice and all, but there’s no pull. There’s nothing telling me that he’s my soulmate or anything. Besides, it was over the second I found out you were in town.”

A smirk bloomed across Mickey’s face before he rolled over even more, straddling Ian. He gazed down at him, just like so many times before, placing his hands on both sides of Ian’s face and leaning down. Their lips met in a tender kiss, and then they pulled back. “What’s your family going to say when they see me then?”

“Why’s Mickey in chick clothes?”

His face transformed into a jeer before he rolled off Ian and punched him in the arm. A change of clothes didn’t make him a new person. He was still the same man Ian loved inside. He knew that as the two gravitated back together. Whatever they had to work out after this, Ian had faith in them.

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn’t completely clear, Mickey’s outfit isn’t suppose to be a dress in the fic, and he’s also clearly not in love with the outfit either but he’s just trying to find himself. I image it as a flowy dress shirt, nice fancy shoes, and stud earrings instead. He’s going to gauge them and be all badass, but he’ll probably move on from the clothes a bit.


End file.
